Singing Stones
by Sugarpony
Summary: On the fifth of May, he always visited Shuusaku's grave at the Ishikiri Temple. He doesn't know exactly why, only that Shuusaku and the name Sai are very important to him-too important to ever be forgotten.
1. Introduction

AN: So here is the start of my Gravitation/Hikaru no Go crossover. I don't think it will be very long, maybe five chapters tops. I've been working on it for a while, so I hope anyone who has happened upon it enjoys it. ^.^

A Note on [Nihon]go: Any and all go-related notes will be mentioned at the end of each chapter so as to not clutter the actual story. Because the game of go actually originated in Japan, I will be using the Japanese words, expressions, and ranking systems. I will also be using Japanese suffixes for continuity's sake throughout the story. This is the ONLY Japanese wording I will be using throughout the story.

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Gravitation or Hikaru no Go. They belong to their respective genius creators.

* * *

_Music is . . ._

_Happiness. Playfulness. Lightheartedness. Fun. Love._

_Music is . . ._

_Sadness. Mourning. Restlessness. Anger. Hatred._

_Music is . . ._

_Fleeting emotions, feelings, images, sounds, smells, from a time long since forgotten._

_Music is . . ._

_Memories dancing on the edge of consciousness only to fade away untouched._

_Music is . . ._

_The invisible connection between then and now._

_Music is . . ._

_Untouchable, here for an instant and gone in a breath._

_Music is . . ._

_Life._

_Music is . . ._

_Death._

_Music is . . ._

_Rebirth._

* * *

Singing Stones

Movement One: Introduction

* * *

Shindou Shuuichi never went to work on the fifth of May.

On the fifth of May Shindou Shuuichi always travelled to Innoshima, climbed to the Ishikiri Temple, and said a prayer at the grave of Honinbou Shuusaku. He wasn't sure exactly why he did this each year, he only knew it was important that he did. So for four long years he had continued this tradition. After all, it gave him the opportunity to travel and see some go related tourist sites, so what was the harm in taking one day off?

This year, however, Shuuichi kept looking over his shoulder as he rushed through his trip more quickly than usual, expecting at any moment a blond, machine gun-wielding American to kidnap him and drag him back to Tokyo for a mayhem-filled recording session with his band, Bad Luck. So far, though, his overenthusiastic manager had not made an appearance, and it was already nearing dinner time. Shuuichi would have to thank his best friend and fellow band member, Nakano Hiroshi, for the favor.

The fear of his manager's twitchy trigger finger wasn't the only reason he was hurrying his trip along this year, though; this was only the second time he had made the trip since meeting and subsequently falling in love with Yuki Eiri, and he would be happy when he was home once more, especially since Yuki had recently confessed his feelings. He had informed Yuki ahead of time that he would be missing dinner and wouldn't be home until late at night; it was all just as well since his best-selling author boyfriend had a deadline the following day and would most likely be locked in his study until the early morning hours tapping away at the keys on his computer. Still, he couldn't help but want to be as near to his fair-haired lover as soon as possible.

Before he left Hiroshima, however, he made sure to stop by one of the local go salons and play a game with Shuuhei-san. He had met the Carps fan during his first annual Shuusaku sight-seeing trip when he had stopped to play a quick game. The intimidating man had recognized his go, and the two had quickly become friends. Playing a game with the one-time national amateur representative had soon turned into a staple element of his annual day trip.

Shuuichi threw the door to the parlor open and bounced inside the small building, joyfully wearing a face-splitting grin. "Shuuhei-san," he called out cheerfully, throwing his sunglasses and Tokyo Giants cap behind the counter, "you're gonna resign halfway through chuuban today!"

The occupants of the salon all welcomed the pink-haired boy, and the elderly man at the counter waved him toward the center goban without collecting his entrance fee. Shuuhei grunted and cleared the board of the game he was replaying. "You've gotten much too cocky, Shindou-kun," he scolded. "If I win today you have to promise to stop wearing that ridiculous Giants cap whenever you visit."

Shuuichi laughed as he sat at the table and pulled one of the go ke toward him. "Alright, but when I win you have to go out and buy every single one of my Yuki's novels!"

Shuuhei chuckled as he nigiried. "So," he said, switching stones with his opponent, "you're still chasing after that writer of yours, are you?"

The singer's eyes lit up as he contemplated the board. "No way! I don't need to chase Yuki anymore! Yuki told me he _loves_ me!"

The older man smiled broadly at his friend's blissful expression. He was glad to see the boy in such a good mood. "Good for you, Shindou-kun," he congratulated, "but you'd better concentrate on this game. I've gotten better while you've been off having fun with that band of yours."

"We'll see about that," Shuuichi crowed, and the two played bowed their heads and mumbled the customary "Onegaishimasu." Soon, the sharp sound of glass stones being placed on wood was all that could be heard in the go salon.

An hour later a crowd had gathered as the game between Shuuichi and Shuuhei was discussed. Shuuhei had forfeited shortly before the game progressed to yosei. "When you played at 3-15," Shuuichi declared, "that was where you lost. It let me get complete control over the upper left."

"Shindou-sensei is so strong," one red-nosed observer commented. "Why aren't you a pro-oof!" He was cut off mid-sentence as another customer elbowed him in the stomach. Shuuhei's glare silenced any protests he may have had.

Shuuichi laughed off the question. "No way could I be a pro," he said, waving a hand in dismissal. "I'm nowhere near good enough, and besides, I'm way too busy with Bad Luck! K-san would never let me spend so much time on go!"

The singer noisily scooted his chair back, stretching his arms over his head before rising from where he was seated in the middle of the ring of go players. "Leaving already?" the top amateur asked as the boy made his way to the front counter.

"Yup! Make sure you bring those books with you next year, and I'll get Yuki to sign them for you!" Shuuichi winked cheekily and ducked out of the salon, avoiding Shuuhei's half-hearted swipe. The big man chuckled, already looking forward to their next meeting, as his friend left to spend some time in Hiroshima's shopping district.

But soon enough the fifth of May had passed and the rock star returned to his everyday routine. On the sixth of May he bounded into Studio 3 at N-G Productions twenty minutes late for rehearsal. He burst through the door and was greeted by his producer, Sakano-san, caught in his usual whirlwind of worry, Hiro, his best friend and the band's guitarist, tuning his instrument, Fujisaki Suguru, Bad Luck's keyboardist, trying some new tunes on his synthesizer, and K-san, who was pointing his magnum right between Shuuichi's eyes. Just another normal day for Bad Luck.

By the time K-san allowed them to break for lunch, Shuuichi was exhausted; K-san's retribution for his skipping rehearsal the previous day was to work the lead singer until his vocal folds were rubbed raw. The vocalist flopped down in a chair next to his long-haired friend and guzzled half a bottle of water. He let out a contented sigh, grateful for the cool relief, and turned his most pathetic kicked puppy look on his band mate.

"Hi_ro_~!" His big, bright violet eyes glistened, but they held mischief. "Hiro-_kun_~, play a game with _me_~!"

"No."

Shuuichi frowned. He hadn't even looked up from where he was combing his fingers through the strings of his guitar. The pink-haired boy sniffled and whimpered for dramatic affect and then tried again.

"But Hi_ro_~, you haven't played with me in _so_~ _long_~!"

Hiro sighed and paused his playing to scold his hyper friend. "First of all, Shuuichi, we don't even have a board here-"

"I brought my portable one!"

"-_second_ of all, we don't have enough time to play a game; we're in the middle of rehearsal, remember?" He not so subtly glanced at where K-san was bent over the recordings of the day's work so far, one hand resting on his ever present semi-automatic. "And _third_ of all, the last time we played a game you won before we even made it to chuuban!"

"I promise I'll go easy on you! You can even have a nine stone handicap!"

"Shuuichi, that was a game of _shidougo_. You don't know _how_ to go easy on someone."

Shuuichi was about to retort with a sizzling comeback that would have Hiro _begging_ to play a game, but as he opened his mouth he was stalled by a snort from where Fujisaki was chewing on a red bean bun. The front man glowered at his skeptical band mate.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

Fujisaki snorted again and shook his head as he swallowed his mouthful of food. "Oh, please," he drawled, ridicule painted on his young face, "you don't really expect me to believe that Shindou, of all people, is some kind of mastermind at igo, possibly the most difficult strategic game ever created?"

"Hey!" Shuuichi bristled at the insinuation that he couldn't solve even a simple tsumego, highly affronted. "I'll have you know that I'm an awesome go player! I rarely ever lose when I play Net-Go!"

A slender eyebrow arched gracefully on the aristocratic face. It was times like these when Shuuichi was painfully reminded that his synth player was the younger cousin of his boss, head of N-G recording company and brother-in-law of his lover Yuki Eiri, Seguchi Tohma. Fujisaki could at times be just as irritatingly arrogant and condescending toward Shuuichi as Seguchi often was about the singer's love life.

"Oh really? Why don't we play a round of speed go and find out just how 'awesome' you are?"

"You're on!" Shuuichi, never one to back down from a challenge, immediately accepted the olive-haired teenager's proposal and began rifling through his bag for his portable goban and stones. He withdrew the game with a triumphant 'ah-hah!', flung it on the nearby table, and grabbed a fistful of stones. "Nigiri!"

The room was soon filled with the echoing sound of glass stone being placed (or in Shuuichi's case, slammed) on the wooden board. The two boys barely paused between moves, as per the rules of ten second go, and the goban soon became filled with a complex black and white pattern.

Pa-_chi_!

Black connects at 8-16.

Pa-_chi_!

White cuts at 18-3.

Pa-_chi_!

A ko fight breaks out in the upper left corner.

Pa-_chi_!

A small group of white stones are sacrificed in order to form two eyes.

Pa-_chi_!

White responds to the ko fight in the upper left.

Pa-_chi_!

Black claims the tengen.

Pa-_chi_!

White defends its suffering shape.

Pa-**_chi_**!

A short pause. A mistake from black? White attacks and takes the advantage.

Pa-_chi_!

Black returns to the ko fight once more.

Pa-_chi_!

White resigns in the ko fight and presses further into black's territory. With that mistake of black's, the loss of a simple ko fight is meaningless.

Pa-_chi_!

Pa-_chi_!

Pa-**_chi_**!

A black stone is slammed into 10-4, and a white stone is dropped into a go-ke from its place in prepared fingertips. Suddenly black's shape is strong and full of life all across the board, and the lost ko fight has killed most of white's territory. Black's seemingly fatal mistake from early suddenly takes on new life and turns the tide of the game.

". . . I have lost."

Shuuichi released his pent-up excitement in a great sigh and gleamed across the board to where Fujisaki's head hung in defeat. "Hey, you're pretty good, Fujisaki! Let's play again some time!"

A snort from Hiro's direction drew the surprisingly adept go player's attention from the game. "If you know what's good for you," the long-haired man said to his junior, "you'll keep your distance when he's on a go kick. He only gets more and more ruthless each time you play him."

The vocalist pouted and sent a hurt look to his friend. "Hi_ro_~! You're so mean to _me_~!"

Fujisaki wore a gobsmacked expression on his young face, disbelief filling his eyes as they roved over the completed game. "How the- what the- where the hell did you learn how to play igo like that?!"

Shuuichi broke from his celebratory dance and turned an innocent expression on his friend. "I dunno," he shrugged, retaking his seat. "I've always played, ever since I can remember. Did you want to discuss the game?" He smiled and reached across the board to begin pointing out areas of significance, but he was interrupted before he could start by a calloused hand on his shoulder steering him in the direction of the microphone. The singer looked up at his manager and pouted.

"K-san!" Shuuichi whined, pouting, "We were just getting started!"

K gave his client another firm shove toward the microphone. "No way," he said, shaking his head, eyes sharp and reproving. "You," he continued, wagging a finger at him, "still have to make up for all the lost recording time from your sudden vanishing act yesterday!" He reached down and grabbed his gun from its shoulder holster and turned to the other members of Bad Luck with a warning glare. "And that goes for the rest of you, as well!"

Hiroshi merely rolled his eyes with a sigh a retook his position next to Shuuichi, while Fujisaki dazedly stood and returned to his keyboard. The recording session resumed, and the goban stood in the corner, forgotten in lieu of Bad Luck's music and K's vast skills in gunman-ship.

* * *

AN: I'm still not very happy about how the game of go came out, but it's better than what I had to start out with. Overall, I'm pretty satisfied with the chapter. I was originally going to put more of the story in it, but that last sentence felt like a good stopping point; I don't think I could make a good transition from it, and I like it too much to take it out.

Please review and let me know what you think! Constructive criticism and flames accepted!

-Sugarpony

Edit: 04/02/11

2nd Edit: 09/22/12

Go-related Terms:

_Goban_- go board

_Go ke_- bowl which holds go stones

_Nigiri_- the act of deciding which player plays which color stones

_Onegaishimasu_- "Please give me your guidance," customarily said before a game of go

_Chuuban_- middle game

_Yosei_- end game

_Shidougo_- teaching game

_Kifu_- game records

_Tsumego_- problems of life and death

_Net-Go_- Internet go

_Tengen_- middle point on the goban


	2. Exposition

AN: Aiya! Has it really been nearly a year since I last posted? Many apologies for the long wait! Have been busy with university. Speaking of which, a great deal of this chapter was written during a two day campus-wide power outage, so everyone give a big thank you to the huge windstorm we had that forced me to get back into my writing.

On a related note, I had a very difficult time writing this chapter. I started it months and months ago, but I didn't really care for what I'd written. I ended up redoing the entire thing and changing my plan for the rest of the story (which is now completely mapped out, by the way). So I hope you all enjoy what I eventually came up with!

Also, a correction from my last AN: Igo was _invented_ in China and _popularized_ in Japan. Big thanks to ElfIcarii for the correction!

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Gravitation or Hikaru no Go. They belong to their respective genius creators.

* * *

Singing Stones

Movement Two: Exposition

* * *

At a small go convention in an out of the way corner of Tokyo, professionals and amateurs alike gathered together to share their love for the game of igo. Salesmen had set up booths where visitors could purchase gobans and stones or out of date serials of _Go Weekly_. All around the room professionals sat at individual tables where they played free teaching games with the visiting public. Another goban and two chairs were set on a raised platform at the back of the room, along with an upright board displaying a nineteen-by-nineteen grid; an exhibition match was to be held later in the day. Everyone in the hall was enjoying himself. Everyone, that is, except one young professional.

Touya Akira was bored.

Not with this convention in particular, but simply bored in general. In a few short years he had steadily risen through the ranks of the professional go world, defeating opponent after opponent. Once he had defeated someone he never again lost to that same person. There were still those above him, of course, just as there were those below him, but once he defeated them, what would come next? Once he rose to the top and began claiming titles for himself, who would challenge him? There was no one at his level to threaten him, no one to force him to dig deep to find his full potential.

He had no rival. Not anymore.

After the first annual Hokuto Cup, Akira had parted ways with Shindou Hikaru, a beginner-dan and fellow participant in the international tournament, with a promise to meet the following Saturday at his father's go salon to discuss the matches and play a few games. Shindou had never shown. He missed all of his matches scheduled at the institute, and beginner-dan Waya Yoshitaka had accosted Akira in the halls demanding to know why Shindou had missed his usual study session with Morishita-sensei. No one had been able to contact him, and efforts to reach his friends and family had proven fruitless. Even when Shindou had begun missing matches in May of the year prior he had attended school and answered those who called at his house, but this time it was as if Shindou had dropped off the face of the planet. He had simply. . . vanished.

It had driven Akira mad that Shindou had disappeared just as the two boys had finally established their rivalry. They had spent years chasing after one another, and Shindou had simply thrown away everything they had worked towards as if it had no meaning at all. Akira had been furious! The lower-dans had lived in terror of him for weeks, and he had received very few teaching requests for quite a while. But really! Shindou had promised him, _promised_ Akira that he would never quit go, that he would chase him always!

The two of them had been the leaders of their generation. The "New Wave," they had been called, the ones who would usher in a new age of excellence in go that had not been seen since the time of Honinbou Shuusaku. But Shindou had gone, and Akira could not do it alone. So much pressure, so many expectations had been piled upon their shoulders, and together they had not even noticed the weight. But now, without his companion, Akira was slowly being crushed, like Atlas under the weight of the Earth, forced to carry his heavy burden for all eternity. And Akira was not an immortal titan; he was only one tiny human, and he had failed his appointed task. All the hopes and dreams of the professional go world were slowly disintegrating once again, and all that remained was the lone Touya Akira, trapped in a world with no one to walk beside him, just as his father had been.

Four years, it had been, since Shindou's disappearance. Eventually everyone stopped trying to contact him. The institute stopped scheduling him matches. Those who had been left behind were forced to move forward alone. But as hard as Akira might try, he had been unable to truly move on. There was no one to challenge him as only Shindou could. Akira's go had stagnated, and he had grown tired and bored. Tired of waiting for his rival to appear once more. Bored with no one to take his place. Because no one _could_ replace him.

Akira swallowed a sigh and forced a smile on his face as his current opponent resigned. He was playing teaching games with the guests, and now was the time to delve into discussion, not contemplate matters that had long since passed. Soon enough the discussion was finished, and his next opponent sat before him as Akira cleared the board.

"How many stones would you like?" he asked absentmindedly, nimble fingers expertly placing each stone into the proper go ke.

"I'd better have six, I think," replied a young voice, and as Akira snapped down the requested stones and looked up he was forced to do a double take. The young man before him–not even a man yet, only a teenager, perhaps Akira's age–was wearing a baseball cap over a mop of bright pink hair. He had set a pair of sunglasses next to the goban on the table, revealing a pair of eerie purple eyes that almost seemed to glow. Akira tried not to let his surprise show; he needed to remind himself that outward appearance had nothing to do with ability. (After all, Shindou had worn his bangs bleached a bright yellow for as long as he had known him.) Even so, this boy was quite out of place among the elderly men and middle-aged housewives toting Yuki Eiri novels crowding the room.

The young professional was snapped out of his reverie once agin by the sharp _pa-chi!_ that signaled his opponent had placed his first stone. Blinking and struggling to control a blush that was threatening to creep across his cheeks, Akira quickly focused himself and responded in kind.

The game progressed quickly. It appeared to be that his opponent favored speed go, and the goban was soon filled with spiraling formations of black and white.

Hane from black.

Atari from white.

Ko fight in the upper left.

Back and forth, in and out, the stones were placed in an intricate choreography, like stars shimmering and dancing across the milky way, whole galaxies being formed and blinked out of existence one by one all at the same time.

Akira's heart was racing, a thrill running through him the likes of which he had not felt in far too long. This strange boy was good. He was very good, and in truth he was probably on par with some of the lower-dans. With a six stone handicap, Akira was forced to fight for every bit of territory he could get. For this brief moment, his go had regained something that had been lost with his rival's disappearance. Yet all the while he could not help thinking that this opponent's go was frighteningly familiar.

The boy placed his next move, and Akira's heart leapt to his throat. It was a beginner's mistake, far too easily seen for this opponent to have overlooked it, and yet there it was before him in black and white. Akira paused for only a moment before he responded, anticipating the moment when the mistake would show its brilliance, and yet hardly daring to hope that it would.

And then, ten hands later, it happened. Paths he had never imagined suddenly appeared, black regained life in all corners of the board, and the gap between the players was so wide that Akira knew that there was nothing he could do at this point but resign with grace.

"I resign."

"Thank you for the game."

"Thank you for the game."

His hands were trembling. Emotions were flitting through him like running water, here only a moment before being replaced by something new. Shock. Disbelief. Hope. Sadness. Happiness. Excitement. Worry. Anger. So many thoughts, so many possible roads. It was as if an opponent had left the game midway through and returned again years later wanting to finish it. He barely knew what to think, how to react, scrambling to remember and control thoughts and feelings and plans of action from long ago.

Why had Shindou–for it could be none other!– chosen to reappear now, after so much time had passed? Why here, of all places, at an out of the way go convention? Why in this way, as a mere visitor and spectator? Did he think Akira would not recognize him? As if he would mistake his rival's go for anyone else's! And why in the world had Shindou vanished in the first place? There were too many questions, too many answers that Akira _needed_ to know, and only one person could give them to him. Here he was sitting before him at long last, and Akira had no way of knowing how long he would remain before fading away into the crowd once more. Just as in the mystery of Sai, everything began and ended with Shindou.

Dimly, he was aware that Shindou (vexing, impossible Shindou!) was chattering on about the game, pointing out paths each player could have taken, not realizing that Akira was lost in his own thoughts. Akira clenched his hands, and one emotion came to the forefront and reared its ugly head. _Anger_.

"Shindou..."

The pink-haired boy looked up, surprised. "Eh?" he asked, blinking. "You know my name?"

Akira looked up, eyes blazing with years of repressed fury. "Shindou, you fool! Of course I know who are! Where on earth have you _been_?"

"Shh!" Shindou hastily shushed him and made motions for Akira to keep his voice down. "Not so loud! I don't want anyone else to recognize me!" He nervously tugged his ball cap lower over his face.

"You–" Speechless, Akira choked, and his face reddened. At his wit's end he stood, angrily slamming his hands on the table and causing the polished slate stones to rattle on the kaya wood, and leaned across the goban. "Idiot! Four years! _Four years_ it's been, and you have the audacity to show up here, of all places, and challenge me to a game! Did you really think I wouldn't know the difference between your go and some amateur's?" Across the board Shindou was nervously leaning back in his chair, but Akira continued unhindered. "I considered you my rival from the first time we played! And now–_Ugh_!" He threw his hands in the air, frustrated and at a loss for words.

"But–There's been a mistake, I've never–" Akira silenced the young man opposite him with a glare and was about to return to his rant with gusto when a heavy hand was lain on his shoulder.

"Akira-kun, what seems to be the trouble?" Ogata Seiji was leaning over Akira, a tight smile on his face. The man briefly glanced over the game laid out on the board and his eyes quickly sharpened, studying the patterns more intently. Across the goban, Shindou was twitching slightly in his seat, as if trying to deduce his chances of outrunning the titleholder. Ogata affixed him with an icy, predatory grin, and he froze.

"Perhaps, Shindou-kun," he spoke softly, choosing his words carefully, "we should discuss this somewhere a bit more... private." With that he clapped his other hand on Shindou's shoulder, pulled him from his chair, and led both boys through the large room, weaving between gobans and vendors toward a small private room in the back hallway, Shindou stuttering denials and excuses all the way.

The break room set up for the visiting pros was vacant when Ogata slammed the door open. He pulled the two boys inside and bodily threw Shindou into one of the chairs that had been brought in for their use. "So," Ogata began, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting the frightened young man a frosty glare, "you've finally returned. _Shindou_."

Shindou collected himself, presenting a false bravado to the others in the room. "Look," he protested, "there's been some kind of mistake. I don't know either of you, you've got me confused with some other Shindou. Now I'm going to find Yuki–" He made to rise from his chair, but Ogata leaned forward and placed one hand on the back of the chair and the other on the table beside them, shaking the coffee pot and effectively trapping the boy in his seat. Shindou flinched back, suitably cowed.

"Don't insult me! I saw the game you played with Akira-kun, and there is no mistaking your go for anyone else's! Any professional would be able to tell the difference!"

Akira slowly stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on Ogata's shoulder, attempting to draw him back. "Ogata-san," he said, speaking softly as if trying to calm an disgruntled bear who had been awakened from his slumber in the middle of winter, "there's no need to be so rough. I am certain we can straighten this out like rational adults." Ogata shrugged off his hand and turned, apparently not appreciating Akira's chastisement.

"Don't be foolish!" The elder pro redirected his anger but did not let Shindou out of his sight. "You and I both know that only one person could have played that game! If we don't act now he'll just run off again, and we'll certainly never get any straight answers from him over a cup of _tea_! You of all people should want answers more than anyone!"

"Yes, but..." Akira's voice trailed off into an awkward silence. It was true, Akira wanted answers from Shindou most of all, and only moments ago he had been as angry as Ogata was now. But he could see Shindou shifting uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting nervously between the two pros and the only exit in the room. He knew that at any moment Shindou could bolt and never again reappear to them, and yet this entire confrontation, so hostile and violent, had Akira's stomach tied in knots, a lump in his throat, and a bad taste in his mouth like milk that had been left to sour in the sun for weeks on end. Shindou, who always had been so bold and brash when it came to go, who could make a saint swear with his stubbornness and a shrine maiden blush with his direct attitude, was cowering in his chair and acting for all the world like a frightened, cornered mouse.

This was wrong.

Before Akira made a decision about whether or not to interfere, however, someone else did it for him. As Ogata returned to hovering over Shindou, a strange man dressed in black slacks and a silken purple shirt appeared in the doorway. After a brief pause he quickly strode across the floor, grabbed Ogata roughly by the collar, and slammed him against the nearest wall.

"Yuki!"

"What the–"

Ogata's protestations were quieted and Shindou's address nearly forgotten as the strange blonde lifted his sunglasses to rest them on his head, revealing a dark, dangerous glare. The normally unshakable shark of the Tokyo Go Institute swallowed his words and licked his lips nervously. This man, this Yuki, was not one to be trifled with. No, those eyes spoke of a man who would defend what was his without hesitation and take retribution in any way he saw fit. The two professional go players, well used to performing under pressure that would steal the breath from a lesser man, recognized this aura for what it was. It was a dark, suffocating aura of one unafraid to do unspeakable things to those he deemed unsuitable against his standards.

"_What_," the stranger growled, a barely controlled rage tinting his voice, "the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

Ogata's eyes narrowed; he had never responded well to veiled threats, and this one literally had his by the throat. He grabbed the man's hand with one of his own. "This is none of your business; now take your hands off me–"

Yuki smashed one fist into the wall just shy of the other blonde's head. Chipped paint and small chunks of plaster crumbled beneath his power, trickling to the tile floor with soft clatters. Ogata fell silent once more, and his hand returned to his side.

Yuki tightened his grip on Ogata's collar, lifting his feet slightly off the floor. "Shuuichi," he said, not diverting his deadly gaze from his captive's, "did these bastards touch you?"

Akira blinked, confused, for the only others in the room were himself and Shindou. But then Shindou responded, and Akira turned toward him, confused even more. "No," Shindou–Shuuichi, now, Akira supposed–called, rising from his chair, "I'm fine."

Still Yuki did not budge. For several long moments they stood, nearly sweating from the intense feelings filling the room. Then Shindou slowly crossed the room and laid one calming hand on his defender's arm. "Yuki," he spoke softly, and almost imperceptibly the threatening blonde's muscles and posture relaxed, all except those still holding Ogata against the wall by the collar. "Let's go home."

Time seemed to pass at a crawl, but eventually Yuki released his grip and threw Ogata roughly to the floor, instead wrapping one arm around Shindou's waist. Ogata picked himself up and dusted himself off, keeping a careful eye on the violent interloper; his normally pristine white suit was now rumpled, and his glasses were askew. Meanwhile, the pink-haired boy leaned against the older man and relaxed in his grip. The blonde took Shindou's chin in his hand, gently rubbing a thumb across his lips. "Damn brat," he mumbled, "I can't turn my back for five minutes without having to get you out of trouble." Then, without any warning, he leaned down and pulled Shindou into a kiss (full on the mouth, no less!) that had Akira blushing into the roots of his hair. When the two parted Yuki smirked at the flustered go players, as if challenging them to dare harm what was his.

Shindou tugged at his apparent lover's shirt sleeve urgently, and although his face was flushed and his hair ruffled from being thoroughly kissed, his eyes still shone with tension and anxiety. Yuki shot the two others one last parting glare before escorting the smaller young man out of the room and down the hall, presumably toward the exit.

Once again, Shindou had unexpectedly thrown himself into Akira's life and withdrawn suddenly after one short game. Once again, Shindou had upended Akira's sense of normality and disappeared without a trace. And not once did he ever look back.

The young prodigy felt like weeping. Something precious in his heart was shattering into a million pieces and scattering to the four winds of the earth, like cherry blossoms in a windstorm. For this time, Akira had a strange, sad feeling that the rival he had lost would never be returned to him.

* * *

AN: I'm not quite certain if I'm satisfied with this chapter or not. I've been working on it for the last week or so, and it's greatly improved in that time. Still, looking back it feels a bit rushed, and I want to add more to it, but that would go against my plans for the layout of the whole story... Ugh! Well, I'm biting the bullet and posting (I imagine the few readers who've stuck with it have waited long enough), so I hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks for reading, everyone!

Edit: 09/22/12


	3. Development

AN: Hello again! What? What's this? And update after only two and a half months? Le gasp! So here's the deal: I moved a month ago and was out of town for a week afterward. Things are finally settling down, but I go back to school on August 21. SO I'll do my best to get as much written before then as I can. I wrote this chapter in just over a day, plus editing, so hopefully I can have at least one more chapter up before then, maybe even two. If I'm really aggressive I might even have it finished, which brings me to my next point of interest.

Now, please enjoy the chapter!

Warnings: Passing mention of gay sex (nothing explicit), boy/boy kissing and cuddling, cursing via Yuki's foul mouth.

_I now realize that all the warnings for this chapter are Yuki's fault. Go figure._

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Gravitation or Hikaru no Go. They belong to their respective genius creators.

* * *

Singing Stones

Movement Three: Development

* * *

As soon as they walked through the door, Eiri made a beeline for the kitchen, tossing his notebook and sunglasses carelessly onto the table as he went. Although he had a strong urge to pull out his stash of beer and drink himself into a stupor, he didn't want to be intoxicated while Shuuichi was so out of sorts (despite the fact that he had a feeling that being drunk would make the upcoming conversation much less of a headache), and as such he instead busied himself with preparing a pot of tea. He filled his silver kettle with water and set it on the stove to heat before reaching up to the cabinets overhead where he kept his teacup and tea bags. Although he much preferred coffee, his doctor had lectured him on the healing abilities of herbal remedies time and again, so he kept a few packets of Earl Grey on hand for when he was frustrated to the point of homicide but didn't feel like going to a bar or sitting in Tohma's irritating presence while he drank himself stupid.

The day hadn't started out this way, Eiri reflected as he pulled down two inexpensive teacups and set them on the countertop. He'd gotten some great sex out of Shuuichi before the brat had run off to work, and he'd even made great headway on the research for his latest novel. When the singer had returned from the studio just as the writer was walking out the door to get some first hand experience at the go convention and then promptly followed him, proclaiming his great love of the ancient strategy game of igo, Eiri had been more than a little surprised, but had allowed the boy to tag along. And what a foolish decision that had been.

It hadn't taken too long for Shuuichi to get lost in the convention hall, immersed in the crowds as he was. After the blonde had obtained most of his research he had gone in search of his wayward companion, asking the vendors and professionals littering the area if they had seen his mop of pink hair. He'd been annoyed when some housewives had recognized him as a famous romance novelist, but at least he'd been able to extract his lover's whereabouts from one of the tittering females.

Chasing after the two pros who had apparently dragged the boy to a back room had only worsened Eiri's growing headache. He'd opened the door to find a man in a pristine white suit with curly blonde hair and prescription glasses leaning over Shuuichi, who was trapped and cowering in his chair. A burning rage had immediately filled the possessive man, and Eiri had no sooner stepped into the room than he had roughly grabbed the threatening man and pinned him to the plaster wall, barely sparing a glance for the other young pro who was standing by uncomfortably, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. If it hadn't been for Shuuichi's quick action, the arrogant fool would have been sent to the hospital for no less than a broken nose, but instead the blonde bastard had escaped the confrontation with only a few bruises and a rather impressive goose egg on the back of his head.

The pair of lovers had left the convention hall and headed for home as soon as they'd cleared the room, Eiri storming through the crowds with one arm around Shuuichi's waist all the way. He could feel the younger man trembling as they walked, so he had done his best to hurry them both to the relative safety of his car. Once ensconced in the expensive leather seats, however, things had grown truly unnerving. The popular singer, known by his friends and coworkers for his hyperactivity and inability to remain quiet for more than ten seconds at a time, had not spoken a single word throughout the entire ride back to the apartment complex. Normally Eiri would have been relieved to have a break from the boy's incessant chattering, but instead the uncharacteristic silence had only served to add to his headache, sending it to teeter dangerously on the edge of becoming a migraine.

Eiri's musings were sharply interrupted by the shrill whistling of the tea kettle, which was blowing steam from where it sat on the stove. His head gave another painful twinge, and he promptly reached to pluck it from the burner and set it on a cool one, turning off the now red hot coils with his free hand. The writer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to lean against the edge of the countertop and breathe deeply. Sparing a glance at the living room, he observed Shuuichi sitting on the couch, bare feet on the cushions, arms wrapped around his legs and head resting against his knees; he hadn't moved since he'd settled in his current position directly after coming in through the door and kicking off his shoes. Dropping his hand and heaving one more sigh, Eiri pushed himself away from the countertop and finished preparing the tea.

A few short minutes later, the blonde set one cupful of steaming Earl Grey on the coffee table before easing himself onto the sofa next to his boyfriend, being careful not to spill his own drink. The bright pink mop of hair barely moved at the presence of company. Eiri simply relaxed into the cushions, content to sit back and sip his tea until Shuuichi broke out of his funk enough to talk to him.

He didn't need to wait long; he was barely halfway through his tea when the unmoving lump next to him began to fidget and a head of soft, pink hair was nudging at his arm. Eiri continued to ignore him, and soon enough a pair of bright violet eyes were peering at him from under his long fringe.

"Yuki~." His name came out as a whine, and he felt two hands wrap around his left arm. Eiri barely spared the boy a glance, keeping his stoic facade. "Yuki~!"

"Are you done moping now, brat?"

Shuuichi puffed out his cheeks and huffed but nodded his head, and Eiri set his tea to join the singer's, which was still sitting untouched on the coffee table. "So," he began, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the armrest in order to better see his brat, "what's the deal with these two go pros dragging you off into a back room and putting you through your paces?"

The younger man wilted and turned to his tea, taking a large gulp and then fiddling with the cup. Eiri narrowed his golden eyes, which Shuuichi seemed to be doing everything in his power to avoid.

"Shuuichi."

The boy flinched at the sharp address; he knew that things were serious when Eiri actually called him by name. When he finally looked up he had a shit-eating grin on his face and large, round, innocent puppy dog eyes. "What do you mean, Yuki? They were just some crazy guys, they thought I was someone else–"

Eiri interrupted by slamming a fist on the glass table before them, causing the other to jump, one eyebrow twitching in irritation. "_Shuuichi_," he started, nearly growling, and the pop star lost his confidence and shrunk back again. But this was necessary; if he didn't force the issue, the kid would wave it away by distracting his lover, either with romantic overtures or some annoying topic, and it would never be heard of again. And because Shuuichi had been so spooked by the incident (not to mention seeing that bastard hovering over his lover had made his blood boil, to say the least), he could not let that happen. Eiri wanted answers.

"What were you even doing with those two in the first place? Why did they drag you into that back room?"

Shuuichi twiddled his thumbs, still not meeting Eiri's gaze, and answered haltingly. "Well," he said, "I was just playing a game with Touya-sensei, and then all of a sudden it was like, I mean..." He huffed and ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. "I guess he recognized my go, because all of a sudden he was just, 'Shindou! You idiot!'" He paused, resting an index finger on his chin as he considered his words. "Heh, I kind of get that a lot, don't I?"

Eiri held up one hand, motioning for Shuuichi to pause in his tale. "Hold on a second," he ordered, confused. " You said he recognized your _go_? Is that even possible? I mean it's just a game of strategy, right? Every game is different?"

Shuuichi brightened at this, glad to get away from the topic at hand for at least a moment. "Well, you see," he explained, "every player has their own personal style, even if they're just learning. And if you study it or are familiar enough with it, you can identify who played the game even years later. It's sort of like how you can tell the artist of a painting by looking at the brush strokes and whatnot." Here, he made vague gestures with both hands, trying to illustrate his point.

The writer frowned, thinking on this. "So you knew this Touya-sensei? If he was able to recognize your go, you must have played him a lot, then. Was he your teacher, and you just haven't seen him in a while?"

"No, no, no!" Shuuichi waved his arms in denial and shook his head vehemently from side to side. "I'd never met him before today, I swear! Well..." He broke off and nervously rustled the back of his hair. "That is, I mean, I don't think I have, but I guess I could've..." He raised a hand to his lips and started mumbling into his palm, thinking it through.

Eiri growled again, aggravated. "Well," he demanded, "did you or didn't you? He's a pro, so he must've played games with dozens of amateurs. If he knew you from your go, you'd have to have played with him a lot more than just once."

"Ah!" Shuuichi burst from his musings, as if he'd forgotten Eiri was also in the room. "W-well, it's kind of confusing, a-and a long story, too..." He stuttered, once _again_ not looking Eiri in the eye.

The blonde was growing increasingly tired of this conversation. He picked up his cold, forgotten cup of tea and drained it in one gulp, grimacing slightly at the taste, slammed the cup back on the table, and leaned back into the couch, bringing a large hand to rest of his forehead and massaged his temples. "_Explain_," he told his lover, not leaving any room for argument.

Shuuichi chewed on his lip and twiddled his thumbs again, deciding how best to proceed. "Well," he began, biting the bullet and looking (finally!) cautiously into Eiri's smoldering eyes, "you know how when we first met, I said I didn't care about knowing your past, but then I couldn't help myself and ended up having to know everything about it anyway?"

Eiri snorted and nodded. Oh yes, he definitely remembered when this selfish brat had intruded on every aspect of his personal life, even going so far as to follow him home to his perverted father's temple, and bursting into tears every time Eiri mentioned something he hadn't known about. He remembered the frequent phone calls from Tohma, who had warned him each of the numerous times the damn brat had gone poking around looking for information about his past behind his back. Really, he thought, how on earth had he even fallen for this childish twerp?

Unaware of his lover's ruminations on the subject, Shuuichi continued. "Well," he said, looking down at his hands as he fidgeted with his slim, nimble fingers, "there's a reason for that." He paused again and took a deep breathe before he continued.

"It's because I don't have one."

He raised his head, and Eiri stared disbelievingly into his bright, shining purple eyes. His first reaction was to snort, or to laugh, or to make some kind of wisecrack about the pink-haired boy's sanity, but those eyes were blazing with sincerity, begging him to accept the fact and allow him the chance to explain. So instead, Eiri brought his hand down from forehead and rested it on his knee, simply saying, "Huh."

Encouraged by his lack of reaction, Shuuichi hastily continued, apparently wanting to have this entire ordeal over with as soon as humanly possible. "You see, when I was fifteen, I was in a bus crash, and I came out of it with complete amnesia." He placed one hand on the back of his neck, looking off to one side. "I don't remember anything before waking up in the hospital, really. My parents and grandfather didn't survive the crash, so my aunt and uncle adopted me, and I moved in with them. I transferred into a new high school, met Hiro and started Bad Luck, and the rest is history, really."

Eiri could feel what little of his headache that had been subsided by the tea begin to return. He breathed deeply through his nose. "Amnesia?"

"Yup."

Really, could nothing be simple with this kid? Still, this was the same boy who had accepted Eiri's own sordid past, easily taking in stride the fact that he had murdered a man. The only thing that had given him pause was that until recently he had still been hung up on his childhood love, Kitazawa Yuki. It was only right that Eiri give the same respect–or was it a lack thereof?–to Shuuichi's own sob story.

"Damn brat, you always cause me so much trouble."

Not that he wouldn't tease him incessantly about it. He couldn't have him thinking he was going soft, after all.

Shuuichi wilted slightly, and Eiri ruffled his hair to show that he meant no harm by his statement. He was so cute when all riled up, but this was a different kind of sadness.

"So," Eiri started, rebooting the conversation that had brought them to this point in the first place, "those two might have known you after all?"

Shuuichi brightened slightly, leaning against Eiri's side as the elder petted his head. "Yeah, it's possible," he said. "My parents–my aunt and uncle, that is–didn't know much about my personal life, so there was no way for me to get in touch with any friends after the accident. And I changed my name when they adopted me, so there was no way for any of _them_ to try to get in touch with _me_, either."

"Hmm." Well, this whole amnesia thing certainly explained away some of Shuuichi's strange quirks, like his obsession over making memories on their dates. And also, "Is that when you started dying your hair pink and wearing those colored contacts?"

Shuuichi shot straight up, letting out a high pitched squawk, and turned until he was straddling Eiri's lap, facing him with shock. "How did you know that I wear color contacts?"

Eiri snorted. Really, he loved the boy (as much as it pained him to admit it), but he could really be dense at times. "You've been living with me for how long now, and you still think I don't know that your eyes are really green?"

Shuuichi pouted and sat back on his legs. "Well, you could've said something sooner," he muttered. Eiri just smirked in response before returning to the matter at hand.

"Still," he said, a frown overtaking his smirk, "even if those two did know you, they had no right to drag you off and manhandle you like that. They may have been angry because you disappeared without a word, but that's no excuse." Eiri's brow furrowed as his righteous anger reared its ugly head again.

"Well, actually, it was only that one who was so rude," Shuuichi defended, for once a serious expression on his face. "Touya-sensei just yelled some, and he even tried talking down the other guy, Ogata, I think it was."

Eiri merely grunted, and he received a peck on the lips for his trouble. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want to make it up to me," he growled, and he grasped his lover's chin as he deepened the kiss.

Shuuichi groaned as he melted into his lover's kiss and raised his arms to wrap them around Eiri's neck, pulling him close. The blonde released his chin and snaked his own arms around the smaller man's waist in a tight grip, halfway supporting him as he rose onto his knees. There they stayed for several minutes, lost in each other's hold, but soon Eiri could feel his brat lose his passion and begin to pull away. He growled in frustration but allowed Shuuichi to collapse into his lap and snuggle against his chest.

Eiri dug a cigarette from his pocket and lit it as Shuuichi drew shapes on his chest with an index finger. That damn brat was not helping to calm his libido, so perhaps the nicotine would. They sat for a while, Eiri smoking his tobacco and the other pouting in silence, until Shuuichi began muttering again.

"I wonder if Touya-sensei really did know me..."

Eiri inhaled deeply, savoring the bitter taste, before rising from the couch, unceremoniously dumping his boyfriend on the floor. Shuuichi looked up, eyes watering. "Yuki~," he whined, "what was that for~?"

The boy coughed as Eiri blew a mouthful of smoke in his face. "You stupid idiot," he said, and Shuuichi whimpered pathetically. The blonde crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees. "If you really want to know, then go find the guy. You can look him up at the Tokyo Go Association. If not, then stop whining about it." He didn't wait for a response but instead stood and turned to begin the short trek to his office; he had wasted more than enough time today, and he really did need to begin writing his new novel if he didn't want his editor dialing him up incessantly and knocking down his door again. He got enough hassle from that woman as it was.

He slammed and locked the door behind him, collapsing into his computer chair, although he did not open his laptop and begin to work straight away. Instead, he leisurely smoked another cigarette, trying to ease away the tension that filled him. Honestly, Eiri didn't want his lover to go off trying to locate the men who had assaulted him earlier that day. Nonetheless, here he was encouraging the brat to do just that. And he called _Shuuichi_ an idiot!

But as much as he hated the idea (and he _really_ hated the idea), he knew that the kid had to decide whether or not he wanted to face his past. He'd been in that position himself for years, and he knew from experience that the singer would not be able to move forward with his life unless he could make peace with himself. Eiri selfishly wanted Shuuichi to be concerned only with their future together, and this was a necessary stepping stone. So despite himself, he was hoping that he would go to find the answers to his questions.

Eiri growled and tangled a fist in his hair, leaning his arms on top of his desk, before taking another long drag on his cigarette. It was going to be another long night spent with the familiar headache with which he had become intimately acquainted since Shuuichi had intruded on his life.

* * *

AN: Once again I'm not sure if I really like this chapter, but it does everything I wanted to accomplish with it, so there you go. I hope you enjoyed it; please leave me a review and let me know what you think.

Cheers,

~Sugarpony

Edited: 09/22/12


	4. Interlude

AN: Aaaaand I'm back. After nearly a year. Wow, bad bad author! In my defense, it has been a very very busy year. This past spring semester? Yeah, I barely had time to sleep, let alone write. And this chapter was giving me issues. I rewrote it at least five times before I got what I have here, but it was definitely worth it!

As to future updates, I think I've already proven that my promises can't be trusted. However, I am going to do my very best to have this finished before I (hopefully) start my internship in the spring. I have an interview for it on August 8-9, so please pray for me!

Warnings: Very slight language. Nothing you wouldn't hear on a school bus.

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Gravitation or Hikaru no Go. They belong to their respective genius creators.

* * *

_Singing Stones_

_Interlude: Theme and Variations_

* * *

Even with the windows propped open, the small, crowded classroom was unbearably hot and humid. Most of his classmates had surrendered to the summer heat wave and laid their heads sideways on the cool wood of their desks, without the energy to even pretend to listen to the afternoon announcements. Hiroshi had long since tied back his flowing red hair, and at the moment he felt as if his brain had been melted by the sun. When the dismissal bell finally rang, he wanted nothing more than to trudge home and shove his head in the freezer.

Unfortunately, the heat also had the unwanted effect of slowing his reaction time, so when Hiroshi had finally packed up his belongings and turned to rise from his chair, there was a body hovering above him and blocking his escape route. "Hey, Hiro-kun, Tanaka-sensei said you'd show me all the different clubs after class!"

Hiroshi stared blandly at the boy leaning on his desk. Shindou had been introduced that morning, and, true to his word, the redhead had been saddled with babysitting duty. Shortly after being introduced Shindou had taken to mangling his name, but 'Hiro' had been unable to muster up the willpower to protest thanks to the oppressing weather.

Heaving a resigned sigh, he pushed his chair away from he desk and stood, taking care not to bump heads with the new student. "Alright," he called, "c'mon, Shindou, clubrooms are this way."

Together the duo trekked through the hallways and school grounds, and by the time the tour was finished Shindou had coerced his guide to accompany him home, not in small part due to the promise of air conditioning. Somewhere between the high school and the city park, they had managed to bond over a common admiration for Nittle Grasper, and Hiro had been promised the loan of a rare tape in return for assisting the other in dying his hair. When they finally arrived at the Shindou residence, the two were eagerly debating which band member was best. (In Hiro's modest opinion Seguchi Tohma was a musical genius, but Sakuma Ryuuichi was god according to Shindou.)

"Mom, I'm home!"

"Welcome back, Hikaru!"

"It's _Shuuichi_, Mom!" The exchange passed as a ritual, without a pause as Shindou removed his shoes and tugged his guest up the staircase. "C'mon, Hiro-kun, the bathroom's this way."

A few short minutes later Hiro was snapping on a pair of latex gloves and examining the directions typed on the back of a package of hair dye. Shindou was seated backwards on the toilet, several towels wrapped around his shoulders and spread across the floor. "So," Hiro opened the conversation casually, pulling the bottle of product out of its box, "Is Hikaru a nickname or something?"

"Eh, not really." Shindou's face wasn't visible, but he reached one hand up to scratch at his cheek. "I kinda changed my name not long ago, and she's still not quite used to it, I guess."

"Uh-huh." One slender eyebrow arched, betraying Hiro's surprise at the unexpected answer. "And would that have anything to do with the fact that you're dying all of your hair _pink_ as opposed to dying your bangs back to black?"

There was silence for a while, quite the contrast to that afternoon when the boy had hardly seemed to have a need for air, he was chattering so much. Hiro began his duties as impromptu hair stylist, not as please with the quiet as he would have been an hour earlier. But before long he challenged Shindou to a quiz on Nittle Grasper's albums, and any tension between the two was forgotten in lieu of each attempting to be the foremost authority on the band.

* * *

Somewhat unbelievably in Hiro's mind, a lasting friendship was formed that afternoon while bonding over music and hair care. Shuuichi had more than a few quirks, to be sure, but his upbeat personality and incurable optimism was a welcome distraction from the pressures of school and his family's expectations. Although, to be honest, every now and then his friend would say or do something that would make Hiro sit up and take notice . . .

. . . Such as two months later, when the two were partnered for a history project and Hiro spent the night at Shuuichi's home for the first time. Around eleven o'clock, when they both were yawning through their futile attempts to remain focused on the topic (or rather, Hiro was trying to stay focused while Shuuichi was perusing a manga), the short-haired boy began rubbing at his eyes before sighing and reaching into his desk drawer. "Aw, it's way too late for history," he groused, pulling a pair of contacts from his suddenly green eyes and storing them in their case.

Hiro blinked, surprised. "I didn't know you needed contacts," he stated, feeling a bit stupid.

"I don't," his friend yawned, blinking rapidly, "I just like the color."

The redhead simply stared tiredly, trying to wrap his sleep-deprived mind around this fact. "Uh-huh." Going from bright green to an outstanding shade of violet for no apparent reason. Right. Then again, he supposed, this _was_ the same person who chose to dye his whole head an obnoxious shade of pink. This sorted, Hiro nodded to himself, slammed his book shut, and promptly declared it to be time for bed.

* * *

One day after school merely a week later, Shuuichi dragged his companion to a net-café, enthusiastically pulling up a website for _Netgo_, of all things. And then systematically proceeded to thrash nearly every opponent who challenged him!

This time, Hiro needed someone to connect the dots for him. After watching in silence as a third resignation appeared in the screen in just under half an hour, he decided to broach the topic. "Shuuichi, how on earth did you get so good at go?"

The other shrugged carelessly, replying to an instant message. "It's just always been easy for me."

"Huh."

A few more minutes passed as the boy at the terminal sifted through his emails. Another question came to Hiro, and he decided that if it wasn't answered to his satisfaction he would head home to restring his guitar.

"So," he asked, "why am I here? It's not like go is a tag-team game or anything."

"Hm?" Shuuichi never turned away from the screen, continuing to type and click at random intervals. "Well I thought I could help you set up an account so we could play each other, but there're a lot more challenges today than I usually get, and they kinda fill the screen so I can't do anything until I take care of them."

A strangled sound of exasperation escaped Hiro, and he gave in to the temptation of clapping a hand to his forehead. "Shuuichi," he sighed, "I've never played go before in my life. I don't even know how how game works!"

At this declaration Shuuichi finally turned toward his friend, a look of abject shock and horror on his face. "You've never played go?"

Hiro snorted derisively. "Most high-schoolers have no interest in an old man's game, you know."

His friend floundered, hanging jaw moving up and down like a fish's before it snapped shut and a flame of passion grew in his eyes. Hiro subtly shied away; he had seen that look several times in the past, usually before being dragged into something that got the both of them into more trouble than it was worth. "Well then," Shuuichi announced, "I'll just have to teach you!" That said he quickly logged out and dragged the go-ignorant to his home for some impromptu lessons.

* * *

For the next several months Hiro's afternoons were spent doing homework, watching Nittle Grasper videos, jamming with Shuuichi as his friend learned how to play the keyboard, and being thoroughly trounced at an ancient board game. They continued in this manner until, finally, an explanation was given to all of Shuuichi's strange quirks.

It was the first spring after his best friend's transfer, and the cherry trees in the school courtyard were just beginning to bud. Classes had been dismissed for the day, but Shuuichi was still sitting at his desk, doodling in a notebook. Hiro leaned over his shoulder, resting one hand on the desk, and quirked an eyebrow.

"Who's Sai?"

"Hm?" Shuuichi continued to scratch his pencil against the paper, once again lost in a trance, such as when he was composing or writing lyrics.

"Sai," Hiro deadpanned. "You know, the person whose name is scribbled all over your English notes?"

"Huh?" The other started and blinked, gazing vacantly at his scribbles as if only just having realized what he'd been doing. "Oh," he mumbled, and gave a half-hearted shrug. "I dunno."

Hiro's right eye began to twitch.

"_Shuu_," he groaned, "is there any reason in particular you're writing a random name over and over? You're not thinking of changing yours again, are you?"

"Nah, I like the one I've got now. Besides, I could never take Sai's name."

_Twitch. Twitch._

"So you _do _know someone named Sai."

"No, not really."

_Twitchtwitchtwitch. Sigh._

Hiro flopped himself backwards in to the chair in front of Shuuichi's so that he was facing him. "You're not making any sense. You say you don't know any Sai, but you act like you do. Which is it?"

"Mm. I guess maybe I do, but I don't really know anything about him."

"So what, he's like an acquaintance or something?"

"No, it's–_urgh_!" Shuuichi threw down his pencil, slumping in his seat to rest his neck over the back of his chair. He frustratedly blew at a clump of hair that had fallen in his face. "Look," he said, tension obvious in his voice, "I guess he must be someone I knew, but if I did, then I don't remember, okay? That's the thing about amnesia- it sucks."

Hiro's mouth formed a silent 'o' as everything he'd thought odd over the past year began clicking into place. "So then the go–"

"I must've played it before the crash."

"And the name–"

"I didn't want to try to be someone I couldn't even remember."

"And the hair and the contacts–"

"Made it easier. Sai had purple eyes, I think."

"Right. Of course."

An awkward silence fell between the two. Shuuichi picked up his pencil from where it had rolled onto the floor beneath the desk and haphazardly tossed it and his notebook into his bag. Hiro walked back to his desk to grab his own things. They walked out of the school side by side, neither saying a word.

When they reached the corner where they usually separated, Hiro turned to head home. He was abruptly stopped, however, by Shuuichi's voice. "Where are you going?"

Hiro turned, a bit puzzled. "Huh?"

Shuuichi frowned nervously. "Aren't you coming over to help me with math?"

"O-oh, yeah." Hiro grinned and ran a hand through his hair, returning to his friend's side as they began chatting about writing a song together.

* * *

A little over three years later, Hiro was awakened at two o'clock in the morning by an irritatingly cheery ring tone. He sluggishly dragged himself from his warm bed as he listened to the young man on the other end, intent upon grabbing a can of soda to keep himself awake and aware. After about an hour (sixty-eight minutes thirty-two seconds, according to his cell's call log) he finally hung up, tired mind spinning from the conversation.

So Shuuichi had finally come across someone from his mysterious past. Hiro wasn't quite certain what to make of this turn of events. On the one hand, he knew how much stress the not knowing had caused his bandmate over the past three years; but at the same time, he knew how much effort his friend had put into creating a new life for himself separate from Shindou Hikaru. If he did try to find these people, he would be forced to live up to their expectations as someone he couldn't even remember, which was what had spurred his identity switch in the first place.

And he also supposed that deep inside, he himself was terrified at the prospect of Shuuichi becoming someone unknown.

After all, it was Shuuichi who had brought him and Fujisaki together to form Bad Luck; it was Shuuichi with whom he had entertained the girls in their school with their infamous "best friends and secret lovers" routine; it was Shuuichi who always knew when Hiro needed a good smack upside the head. Hiro didn't know Shindou Hikaru– he was a complete stranger to him.

What if Shuuichi met this young man and decided he would rather be Hikaru once more? If that happened, did Hiro have any right to take that away from him? No, he supposed he didn't, but if the day came to pass that his best friend really did with to leave Bad Luck and live his life as Hikaru again, Hiro didn't know that he would have it in him to let him go without a fight, to send him off with a smile.

Then again, maybe he wouldn't have to; after all, Yuki-san surely wouldn't let his lover escape him so easily. It was strange, then, how Yuki-san was encouraging Shuuichi to do this, to find some answers, just as Hiro was. Then again, he wasn't exactly encouraging him, per se, but he wasn't demanding that he stay away from the strange men altogether, either, which coming from Yuki was encouragement in and of itself.

The novelist had become insanely jealous and overprotective of the kid ever since he'd out his own messy past behind him, although he showed it in his own possessive, easily agitated way. Perhaps it was because Yuki knew what it was like to have something so important haunt you for years on end, or maybe he actually had faith that Shuuichi would never abandon him so easily. Maybe he was inexplicably, unbelievably trying to be a supportive boyfriend for once. Whatever the reason, Yuki-san wasn't holding Shuuichi back from what he needed.

Hiro snorted, and a sardonic smirk crossed his face as he rolled his eyes and pushed himself out of his seat, slowly rising and stretching his tired body. His own feelings aside, he would support his best friend whatever his decision, whether it was to confront his past or to continue running from it. After all, he certainly couldn't allow Yuki Eiri of all people to be the strong one for Shuuichi!

That decided, Hiro turned out the light and returned to the comfort of his bed for a few more hours of sleep before that morning's recording session.

* * *

AN: Hm. Still not satisfied with the flow of this chapter; but I guess that's what happens when you write one piece over the course of a year. If anyone's interested in being a beta reader for me to help let me know where I need to fix these kinds of things, please PM me.

That aside, I hope you all enjoyed this very long overdue chapter. Please review and let me know your thoughts; those helpful little bursts of praise and guilt alway help spur me into writing more!

-Sugarpony

Edit: 09/22/12


	5. Recapitilation

AN: Hello all! We have FINALLY reached the climactic chapter; I really hope I've done it justice for all of you who have been so patiently waiting. It's a lot of recap for those of you who follow Hikaru no Go, but 'tis the nature of this sort of fic. Please enjoy!

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Gravitation or Hikaru no Go. They belong to their respective genius creators.

* * *

Singing Stones

Movement Four: Recapitulation

* * *

Shuuichi shifted from foot to foot, unable to keep still. Despite his earlier resolve to ply Touya-sensei for answers about his past, he was doubting the wisdom of turning up at the man's front door unannounced as he was. Still, he had always tackled his problems head on in the past, and now was no time to change his outlook on life. Screwing up his courage, he reached out a hand and rang to bell.

It seemed no more than a blink of an eye before the door opened and Touya-sensei was standing before him, eyes widened in surprise. Shuuichi's mouth went dry as he realized he had no idea what to say to this man. Really, he needed to start thinking ahead before acting! Shuuichi swallowed hard twice, trying to restore his mouth to functioning well enough that he wouldn't appear to be a stammering idiot.

"Uh, I-I, um, ah–"

So much for that plan. Shuuichi snapped his jaw shut with an audible click and straightened his back, forcibly putting an end to his fidgeting. He gulped once more before falling into a deep bow, thrusting forward the box of mochi he had purchased from the grocery store on the walk from the train station (Hiro's idea). "P-please excuse the intrusion!"

Shuuichi felt his face burn hot as he stewed in embarrassment of his outburst. _Ah, man,_ he thought in dismay, _he's totally gonna think I'm nuts and slam the door in my face!_ Still, should that happen Shuuichi would simply have to force his way in somehow. He was not about to let this opportunity slip by him without a fight.

Just as he was debating sneaking through the door past Touya while the go pro was still shocked by his sudden appearance, he heard a loud sigh somewhere above him. Cautiously peeking over his sunglasses, Shuuichi was relieved to see the other young man had a somewhat amused smile on his face. "Come on in, Shindou," he invited, stepping away from the doorway to allow his guest inside.

Shuuichi straightened and hurried after Touya, toeing off his shoes in the entryway and shoving his hat and shades into a pocket. The house was a traditional one with wooden and tatami floors and sliding paper doors. "Er, sorry for the intrusion." _Oops, already said that._ "Um, I brought some mochi for you."

"Thank you for the gift." Touya accepted the box of sweets with all the grace and dignity his home and profession suggested. Damn it, why wasn't this guy rattled? Just the other day he was jumping up and shouting over a stupid game! _Not fair,_ Shuuichi pouted.

"So, uh," he continued, "I guess you're wondering what I'm doing here. I mean, we didn't exactly part on a good note the other day. . . Oh! Uh, sorry for Yuki, by the way," he apologized, "he, uh, _kind_ of has a bit of a short temper. But he's actually a really great guy, in fact he's a lot more sensitive and insecure than he lets on–but, uh, that's kinda beside the point, isn't it? Ahahah. . ."

Shuuichi rubbed the back of his head, eyes planted firmly on the ceiling. This had seemed a lot easier when he was back at Hiro's apartment, planning what to say. "Anyway, uh, you and that other guy, you know, back at the convention, seemed to know me, and, um. . ."

"Shindou."

"Hah?" The address was blunt and calm, and it had Shuuichi blinking awkwardly at his host. Geez, that was some intense stare Touya had pinned on him!

"Come play a game with me."

"O-okay?" The word was barely out of his mouth when he was unceremoniously yanked by the wrist toward the end of the hall. What _was_ it with go pros and dragging people off with no warning? Did sitting at a goban among old geezers all day really kill basic social skills that much? Still, at least this gave Shuuichi more time to think about how to explain his presence.

He was led into a small room lined with tatami mats, bare except for a goban, two go ke, and several floor pillows. Touya settled himself on one side of the board, uncovering the nearest go ke and pulling it towards him. As Shuuichi took the opposite cushion for himself, his opponent grabbed a fistful of stones. "Nigiri."

"Eh?!" Shuuichi looked up from where he was admiring the kaya wood, not believing what he was hearing. "But sensei, shouldn't I at least have a few stones? There's no way I can play an even game with you!" Proud of his skills as he was, the amateur knew he was no match for a professional. What in the world was Touya-sensei thinking? Was this payback for his defeat at the convention?

Touya, however, would not budge. "No," he persisted. It has to be an even game, Shindou. I will not accept anything less than your absolute best."

And there was that burning gaze again, serious as a heart attack. Shuuichi didn't know why he was acting as if this match had the fate if the world resting on it, but he had a feeling that if he refused he would never get any answers. He placed two stones on the board in front of him.

The count was odd, and they traded go ke so that Shuuichi had the black stones. The vocalist took a deep breath through the nose to steady himself before placing his first stone.

_Pa-chi!_

Their opening moves passed quickly, and a skeleton was soon laid out. As nervous as Shuuichi had been since arriving, he felt himself slipping into the familiar, focused calm that filled him every time he played a game of go. His doubts and questions faded to the back of his mind, and there was only himself, the goban, and the stones.

Extend in the lower right. Strengthen defenses in the lower left. Place a stone to form a double eye. Knight's move in the upper right. Force white's invader into atari. Hane in the lower right. Cut in the center. Defend his shape on the right.

Whereas their previous match mad been a fun test of his skill, now Shuuichi had to play his hardest in order to keep up with the seven-dan. Even with the advantage of the first move, he was being pushed to the edges of his limits–and then pushed further past them. And yet, strangely, Shuuichi was not feeling the stress of the situation. His thoughts were clear; every time Touya-sensei played an unexpected move a new strategy formed in response. It was both the most difficult and the most amazing game of his life.

At times the stones almost seemed to fall into place on their own. Whether it was the work of instinct or some forgotten memory, Shuuichi couldn't say. The patterns spiraled together, complimenting one another as he had never before seen. He was filled with an exhilaration he had only felt when performing on stage, belting out melodies full of passion. The black and white stones intertwined endlessly, singing sweet harmonies.

Despite it being obvious that Shuuichi had lost before they reached yose, the two continued their duet until the last notes were struck. Then they sat in silence, contemplating what they had created.

Touya was right. There was no way they could have played a game this magnificent if Shuuichi had been given a handicap. In all his years of playing go, he had never realized such a thing was possible. How could he have? He had never played in such a way before, had never faced someone who strengthened as much as challenged him. Touya was the Sakuma Ruuichi of igo; his genius both awed and inspired him.

Who had Touya Akira been to him?

"You felt it, too."

"Huh?" Shuuichi looked up from biting his lip. Touya was staring at his again, although some of his earlier intensity had been relieved.

"The game," Touya continued. "_This_ game. We've played it before."

Shuuichi's eyes met his. "Yeah." Not literally, of course; it was close to impossible for them to have replayed an earlier match move for move. But the spirit behind the game, that thrill that danced on the edges of his memories, the way he had known how to respond to Touya's go after having played against him only once before–this can't have been the first time they'd played this way.

Then came the possibly life changing conclusion. "You _are_ Shindou Hikaru."

". . . Yeah."

Touya's eyes drifted shut as he let out a long, deep sigh. An invisible weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders. His lips curled into a slight smile. "I knew it," he whispered to himself. "Finally, Shindou."

"I–" Shuuichi's words caught in his throat, and he swallowed hard. "I don't–I don't remember you."

A pause, then, "I know."

Shuuichi ruffled the back of his hair, uncertain how to proceed. Luckily, Touya broke the awkward silence for him.

"I looked you up, you know," he told him, setting aside his go ke. "You've done well for yourself. I never imagined you as a musician, although to be fair, I never imagined you doing anything but playing go for a living."

"Hah hah, yeah," Shuuichi laughed. "Bad Luck's been doing really well ever since we signed with N-G. Our first album even sold a million copies in less than two weeks!" He grinned, stopped to think, then blinked in confusion. "Wait, you thought I'd be a go pro? But I'm really not that good."

Touya sputtered and stared at him as if he had just pronounced his undying love for him (which _of course_ would never happen, as Yuki was the only one for Shuuichi). "Shindou," he choked, "you _were_ a go pro. You had half the upper dans terrified when you were _fifteen_!"

"Eeeh?" Suuichi's jaw hit the floor. "No way! Are you serious?"

A hand reached up and slapped Touya's face of its own accord. When it was removed, his features had been rearranged into a bland expression. "I have some back issues of Go Weekly upstairs if you want proof," he offered.

Shuuichi shook his head, in a daze. "Maybe later," he replied. "Huh. A go pro." He tested the words, and as foreign as they felt, something in them rang true. "So then I guess that's how we know each other?"

His apparent former colleague nodded. "We were rivals before either of us passed the pro exam. We still are, as far as I'm concerned."

"Rivals, huh?" Touya really _was_ the Sakuma Ryuuichi of the go world.

"Yes," Touya confirmed. "Rivals and . . . friends." He spoke somewhat hesitantly, as if he wasn't really sure of what he was saying, but that sounded right to Shuuichi. After a pause, he continued. "I could reintroduce you to some of your other friends, if you like."

"Er, yeeah." Shuuichi didn't know how to reply to that offer. Touya seemed to be an okay guy, but Shuuichi still wasn't ready to confront a bunch of people who were expecting him to be Shindou Hikaru-sensei, go pro extraordinaire. He had the feeling that meeting would be more reminiscent of the one with Ogata-sensei. "Maybe–maybe another time," he compromised.

Touya nodded in understanding and smoothly changed the subject. "Would you like to discuss the game?"

"Sure."

Soon the two were again immersed in the game laid out on the board. Shuuichi listened attentively at first, eager to glean as much as he could from this opportunity to learn from a seven-dan. Before long, though, the boys were taking turns pointing out areas for improvement and possible alternate strategies. As time passed their discussion grew more and more heated until finally the two were half-standing and shouting at one another, punctuating their points with the _pa-chi!_ of stones.

"That wouldn't work because then I'd go _here_!"

"But then I'd go _here_ and in two turns you'd trigger my trap!"

"No, because I'd go _here_ instead!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, that's just a stupid move!"

"If that's so, then why have you said 'I see' six times already?"

"It was _four_ times!"

"It was _six_, Shindou!"

"Oh, yeah? Well–well–_you have stupid hair_!"

"Have you looked in a mirror lately? At least _my_ hair's not _pink_!"

"Maybe not, but your _shirt_ is!"

They leaned across the goban, glaring at one another, neither giving an inch. A minute later Touya's face started to twitch, his lips quirking into a mirthful smile, and a couple of chuckles escaped him. Shuuichi pulled back, glare vanishing, as Touya completely dissolved into a fit of belly-aching laughter. It was such an unexpected, out of character moment that Shuuichi couldn't help but join in.

"What," Shuuichi snickered, trying to catch his breath, "what are we even laughing about?"

"I'm sorry," Touya apologized, reigning in is giggles. "It's just, some things never change. We used to fight like this after every game, until it wasn't even about go anymore! I just–" He let out one last breathy laugh. "–I just couldn't help it."

Reassured by the good mood, Shuuichi braved a question. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Shindou." Touya didn't hesitate, even sounding a bit surprised that he would ask permission. "That is why you came here, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Shuuichi leaned back on his elbows, relaxing into his cushion. "How did I start playing go? I mean, it's not really something a kid would be interested in, right?"

"That is true," Touya acknowledged. "My father was Meijin until a few years ago, so there were always players coming here when I was younger. It was only natural that I play, as well. You, though. . ." He paused, tapping two fingers on the table. "You really came out of nowhere.

"You showed up one day at my father's go salon and defeated me in a game. You came again and completely slaughtered me. It was a, hmm, humbling experience, especially since I had been planning on taking the pro exam that year."

"_Really_?" Shuuichi inched forward, blinking owlishly. "I must've been really good!"

Touya arched one graceful eyebrow. "You would think so, wouldn't you? But after that you kept running away from me, and the next time we played it was like all of your skill was gone. You were the worst player I'd ever seen."

"Huh?"

Touya snorted. "You were so hopeless, it was like you were a different person. I was so angry I disregarded you as worth my time. But then of course when I passed the pro exam, you joined the insei. You became a professional after playing the game for less than two years."

Shuuichi's jaw just about his the floor at that bombshell. "Wooow. I must've had some teacher! Who was it?"

"That is the question, isn't it?" Touya sighed in exasperation. Shuuichi frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "We're friends and rivals, right? So shouldn't you know?"

"It's complicated," Touya said. "Why don't I make us some tea before I explain?"

Shuuichi's frown melted into a pout, but he nodded in agreement and followed his host to the sitting room. While Touya headed into the kitchen, Shuuichi settled himself on the couch and thought about his visit so far. Soon enough the two were sipping at cups of lukewarm tea.

"So," Shuuichi prompted, impatient for answers, "my teacher? Is he not around anymore, or what?"

Touya drained his cup before setting it on the wooden coffee table. "After you joined the insei, you started attending study session with Morishita nine-dan," he told him. "But aside from that, you insisted you had no formal teacher."

"You sound like you don't believe that."

"I never did. You promised to explain it to me, someday, but you disappeared before that day came."

"Aaagh." Shuuichi threw his arms over his head, falling back into the couch. "So much for that." Still, he had learned quite a bit more than he had expected. Plus, Touya had promised to put him in contact with some of his other friends (although not too soon, if Shuuichi had anything to say about it). Overall, he supposed the day could be called a success.

Before he could suggest taking his leave, however, Touya turned toward his guest. "I do have a theory," he told him.

"Go on," Shuuichi prompted, straightening and resting his hands on his knees.

"There was a Netgo player," Touya began, "who had the go world in an uproar. He was undefeated from his first appearance, even against professionals from around the world. No one knew where he came from or who he was. He played once against my father and won, and then he completely disappeared.

"At first, I thought he was you, Shindou," Touya admitted. "But aside from those first two games, you were nowhere near his level. Still, there are undeniable similarities between your go and his. I think. . ." He paused. "I think he was your teacher."

There was something about the story. Something that was niggling in the back of his subconscious, waiting for a trigger to be set free. "What–" His voice cracked, he swallowed and tried again. "What was his name?"

Touya stared straight into Shuuichi's eyes. "He called himself 'sai'."

_Sai_. A face flickered in Shuuichi's mind. Bright purple eyes, long black hair, painted lips, ruby earrings. Laughing, crying, begging, concentrating. Strange, old-fashioned clothes. A delicate yellow fan.

"Sai. . ."

Touya rose, picking up the two teacups. "At any rate," he said, "I may not be able to help you find sai, but I can give you the contact information of some of your friends." He took the dishes back to the kitchen, and when he returned several minutes he carried with him a folded piece of paper. "Here," he said, handing him the paper. "You can contact them whenever you're ready; I won't mention anything to them."

"Thanks," Shuuichi said, accepting the list of names and numbers. He shoved it in his back pocket without glancing at it.

By some silent agreement, they walked to the front door side by side. Enough had been done and said for one day. Shuuichi replaced his disguise, preparing to rejoin the public.

"I won't let you run away from me again."

Shuuichi looked up from where he was tying his shoes. "If it's my turn to chase you, I will," Touya continued, "but I won't let you disappear again."

Shuuichi stood. "I'm not the same Shindou you knew," he said. "I don't think I can be that Shindou again."

"I know," Touya said. "You're different, but you haven't changed as much as you think. Hikaru or Shuuichi, you're still Shindou."

Shuuichi smiled. He had been so afraid of the pressure of being Hikaru, but it looked like at least with Touya he needn't have worried. Maybe he _could_ reconnect with Hikaru without losing Shuuichi. Heartened, he set off for home with a careless wave.

"See ya, Touya."

* * *

AN: Wow. That was a BUTTLOAD of dialogue. I don't think I've ever written so much dialogue in one scene before. That was just . . . wow.

Just the epilogue left now! Thank you all for sticking with me this long-we're almost there! Please let me know any thoughts or questions you may have; reading your reviews really is the highlight of my day.

If there is anything in particular you are still wanting to see happen in this story, now is the time to speak up! I will do my best to give you all the ending you want and deserve.

~Sugarpony

Go-Related Terms:

_-dan_- The ranking system for go professionals. The higher the dan level, the higher the rank.

_insei_- A group of go players, under age eighteen, who play against one another and study together at the Go Institute under the instruction of professionals. They are required to take a test prior to being granted admittance into the ranks of insei.


	6. Coda

AN: Well, we've _finally_ reached the end of this story. _C'est fini_! No one requested any scenes, so I just went with what I'd had in mind. I hope you all have enjoyed this story; please let me know what you think of it and this ending.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Irresponsible use of firearms.

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Gravitation or Hikaru no Go. They belong to their respective genius creators.

* * *

_Singing Stones_

_Movement Five: Coda_

* * *

In the Touya Go Salon, a small crowd of elderly men were gathered around a table in the back of the room. On the surrounded goban two young men, barely more than teenagers, alternated placing black and white stones on the board as they played a fast-paced game of speed go. After a few minutes white surrendered, and the group retreated to their own games closer to the entrance.

"Thank you for the game."

"Thank you for the game."

Shindou Shuuichi, vocalist of the popular group Bad Luck, hummed as he stretched his arms above his head. "You'd better watch out, Touya," he declared, "I'm closing in on you!"

The go pro shook his head as he gestured to the left side of the goban. "Not if you keep playing like you did here," he said. "That knight's move was sloppy. It cost you the entire cluster."

"Oh come off it, _sensei_. You won by two moku less than last time, you know." Shuuichi began separating the stones, anticipating the next game. "Come on, help me clear the board. We can discuss after a few more games."

Akira sighed in exasperation but complied. Soon they were absorbed in a second game, and then a third. As the third game ended, the counter girl brought the pair a teapot and two cups on a small tray.

"Here you go, boys," she said, a bright smile lighting her face. "Time for the two geniuses to take a break."

"Thank you, Ichikawa-san," Akira accepted the tea with a gentle smile. "We appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"No problem, Akira-kun," she chirped. "We're all happy to have you and Shindou-kun here regularly again, even if some of those cranky old men won't admit it." Ichikawa threw them a wink and went back to work.

"You know, Shindou," Akira pondered, sipping his tea, "you would improve a lot more quickly if you returned to the world of pros. I'm certain the institute would gladly welcome you back once you explained the situation."

Shuuichi laughed off Akira's proposal. "Sorry, Touya, but there's no way I'm walking out on Bad Luck. Besides," he confided, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "some of those old geezers still give me the creeps, especially Ogata-sensei."

Akira shook his head in wonder. Some things, it seemed, never changed. "As long as you don't go disappearing on me again, I can wait. But eventually you and your friends will move on from Bad Luck. After all, I doubt your fans will be quite as enthusiastic when you're old and gray."

Shuuichi picked up his yellow paper fan and tapped it against the go ke in front front of him. "Well, maybe some day I'll go pro," he conceded, "but not any time soon. Now come on, let's play one more game before I leave."

They chose stones and laid out the opening fuseki, but just as they were moving into chuuban–

_BANG!_

Shuuichi froze, his bright green eyes widening. Even without seeing Akira's indignant expression, he knew there was a tall, blonde American pointing an unnecessarily large gun at the back of his neck.

"_K-san_," Akira groaned through gritted teeth, "I do wish you would _stop_ putting holes in my father's salon."

"Oh, lighten up, Touya-kun!" The maniac simply grinned and waved off his concerns. "Just send the repair bill to N-G, Seguchi-san will take care of it."

"That's hardly the point," the pro groaned, "you're disturbing our customers–"

"_K-san_!" Shuuichi whined as his manager dragged him away from the goban. "Sakano-san promised I'd have the day off today!"

"That was before I booked a live TV spot for Bad Luck! Hiroshi and Suguru are waiting in the van outside, we need to be there in twenty minutes–"

"But we were in the middle of a game!"

Akira sighed and rested his head in his hands as the overbearing American manhandled his eternal rival out the door. The salon's customers crept out from under the tables to return to their games, by now more than used to the chaos that usually accompanied Shindou.

But even a crazed gunslinger wouldn't keep the two apart forever. Even as Touya began clearing the goban and Shindou prepped for his interview, they knew that as different as their lives were, now that they had found one another again, they would continue to play hundreds, even thousands of games.

And together, they would find the hand of god.

* * *

Final Story Notes: This whole story was inspired by the realization that Shuuichi and Sai acted a lot alike and by the difference in Shuuichi's appearance in _Lyrics of Love_ from the anime. In this story, when Hikaru lost his memory he subconsciously remembered Sai and incorporated aspects of his personality and appearance in his own. At the end, Shuuichi has stopped wearing contacts but keeps his hair dyed - symbolizing a kind of merge between Hikaru and Shuuichi. I purposefully did not specify how much of his memories have come back; you can judge that on your own.

As for Shuuichi choosing not to return to the pro go world, I just could not see him abandoning his friends and their dreams for Bad Luck. I imagine, though, that once his music career is pretty much over, he'll rejoin Touya and the pros. In the meantime, he and Touya both are satisfied with simply being able to play each other.

I really hope you all enjoyed this story! Please drop me a review and let me know if you liked it or not. I accept both flames and constructive criticism.

Cheers,

Sugarpony

Go-related Terms:

_hand of god _- Said to be the ultimate move in the game of go, it has never before been played. Many pros and amateurs alike play in the hopes of finding this elusive move.


End file.
